


if there's anything to say, if there's anything to do

by Nightblaze



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, and how its absolutely a result of her feelings of abandonment by her mom, i cannot stop thinking about toni's "i dont matter" comment, so i wrote this fic about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightblaze/pseuds/Nightblaze
Summary: “Toni,” her mother says.“Tamara,” Toni all but spits. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Relationships: Martha Blackburn & Toni Shalifoe, Toni Shalifoe & her mom
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	if there's anything to say, if there's anything to do

**Author's Note:**

> big shoutout to Milan!! this fic would not have been written without their ideas

i.

Toni’s already having a pretty shitty week and her mother showing up is not making it any better.

Here’s the deal: five days ago, all hell broke loose in the bunker where the girls were being kept after their “rescue.” Toni remembers Leah, Fatin and Dot all but breaking down the door to her room, reuniting with Shelby and Martha and crying a lot more than she cares to admit, following Rachel on her rampage through the bunker to find Nora. She remembers getting ushered onto a plane bound to Los Angeles, shaking through the whole flight in fear, getting separated from the girls (from Shelby) as she boarded the plane bound for Minneapolis.

And that’s just this week. Toni doesn’t even want to think about adding all the island bullshit onto that (which turned out to be an elaborate experiment? What the fuck?)

So, yeah, when she sees her mom waiting for her at the end of the gate, she’s a little pissy.

Martha squeezes Toni’s hand (she hasn’t let go since they first boarded their flight) when she catches sight of the woman. Toni can handle this.

“Toni,” her mother says.

She can’t handle this.

“Tamara,” Toni all but spits. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Off to the side, Toni sees Martha take a protective step towards her. Tamara gives a weak smile. “Honey, I’m here to pick you up.”

“Oh, like hell you are,” Toni laughs disbelievingly. “I’m  _ not  _ getting in a car with you.”

The air is heavy with unsaid implications. Toni’s tough facade has been just about perfected over the years, but it’s not enough to convince herself. She can feel the prickle of tears behind her eyes, she can sense a long-since repressed memory tugging at the back of her mind.

“I’ll drive her, Tammy,” Mrs. Blackburn says and rage boils in Toni’s stomach. “Let’s not fight.” Tamara purses her lips, and agrees.

In the car, Mrs. Blackburn explains, “She’s three months sober, Toni. It really looks like it’s sticking this time.”

Of all the people in the world, Toni thinks that maybe Mrs. Blackburn was the only one who might understand. She was the person Tamara always passed Toni on to when she went off to drink. She was the one who had to deal with Toni’s breakdowns, the one who took care of her when she couldn’t stay at her foster home any longer.

“That’s what she said the last time,” Toni croaks, ashamed of how her voice cracks.

Mrs. Blackburn’s sad gaze turns to Toni’s through the mirror and she doesn’t respond.

ii.

Toni stays with the Blackburns for a couple nights before Martha convinces her to try spending the night with her mom.

“I don’t want to force you, though,” Martha says as they watch TV curled up together on her couch. “You’re always welcome here, you know that. Just think about giving her a second chance. Mom says she’s really trying.”

“She’s had plenty of second chances,” Toni mumbles and Martha snuggles closer to her.

She ends up taking Martha’s advice. She wants to talk to Shelby about it, too, but she’s not sure they’re there yet. It’s not that Shelby doesn’t know about Toni’s mom—she does. They spent long walks around the island talking about their home lives. But just like Toni only knows the broad strokes of what happened to Becca, about Shelby’s father, Shelby only knows what Toni told her. She hasn’t lived it, and Toni will never live what happened to Shelby.

Tamara’s house is a small thing, smaller than their old one, and it’s closer to the center of town. The first thing Toni notices when she gets there is how clean it is. Everything is pristine, or as pristine as possible, in the case of the bathroom. The kitchen is small but the fridge seems well-stocked (and without a single bottle of beer). The living room is adorned with a rug and two chairs.

“And here’s your room,” Tamara says to close out the short tour of the house. Toni doesn’t say anything. She goes in, closes and locks the door behind her, and throws herself down on her bed (it’s a pull-out couch, actually, but she’s eighty percent sure Tamara said something about getting her an actual mattress as soon as possible, and it’s still about three thousand times more comfortable than sleeping on sand).

Infuriatingly, Tamara seems to want to ignore the last seventeen years. She keeps trying to talk to Toni like everything’s fine, like they are a normal, well-functioning family, not two people who barely know each other.

(Also infuriatingly, she really seems to be dedicated to being better. Toni hasn’t seen any drinks in the house, and she’s gone snooping several times. Once, she found Tamara’s three-month sobriety coin, engraved with “to thine own self be true.” It’s a cheerful green. The sight of it leaves an unpleasant taste in Toni’s mouth.)

Toni goes to the grocery with Tamara on the weekend—something about transparency, Toni wasn’t really listening. She had this nagging little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Martha and kept reminding her about second (and third and fourth and fifth and) chances.

Somebody grabs her arm and Toni almost throws a punch before looking (later, she’ll find this funny, and then feel bad about it for an hour). It’s Regan.

“Hey, I’ll catch up,” Toni calls over to Tamara. She looks confused, but seems to think better of trying to control her and nods.

“Are you okay?” Regan asks quietly as soon as Tamara is out of earshot. “I mean—is she okay for you to be around?”

If Toni wasn’t head-over-heels for Shelby, she might fall head-over-heels for Regan again. “It’s fine. Thanks, though.”

“Yeah.” Regan hesitates. “Okay. Stay safe.”

“I’ll see you around.”

iii.

“Who was that, at the grocery?” Tamara asks her when they sit down for dinner (they never sat down together for dinner, before) a couple days later. Her eyes flick between her plate, the ceiling, Toni, back down to her plate.

Toni kind of wants to ice Tamara out, give her the cold shoulder until she stops trying, but it’s just not in her nature to keep her thoughts to herself. “Regan,” she says simply and finds a smug satisfaction (a terrible emptiness) in how Tamara’s brow furrows. “My ex-girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend like… dating?” Tamara says. Toni gauges her expression, wondering if she’s about to give her another reason to hate her, then nods. “Oh. I didn’t know you were…” Toni fixes her with a stony stare. She doesn’t know most things about her anymore. “I’m sorry you broke up,” she continues after a little while.

“I’m over it,” Toni tells her. “Anyway, I’m with someone else now. Shelby. From the island.”

Tamara pauses, and Toni can see the momentary hesitation on her face. “What’s she like?”

Toni must’ve imagined this moment a hundred times before. Somebody (who was she kidding, it was always her mom) to ask her about the people she loved. Most of the time, it was about Martha and then Regan, too, and now Shelby and all the others from the island.

“She’s beautiful,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, and then the floodgates are open. “When we first crashed, I thought she was this stupid white Christian who would annoy me to death before I had the chance to starve or whatever. But even then I couldn’t deny that she was… I dunno, just beautiful.” Toni can feel her face soften up as she talks. “She kept suggesting icebreakers and games and all that shit. I thought it was dumb, but it kept us sane. She’s like a light in the dark, you know?”

Somehow, she ends up recounting her and Shelby’s whole story (taking out the more explicit details, because ugh, she’s not having that conversation with her mom). And then she just keeps talking, about all the girls: Leah’s dry humor and conspiracy theories. Nora journaling everything she saw. Rachel’s determination, unbroken even after the shark attack. Fatin’s surprising ingenuity and dramatic antics. Dot’s Survivor knowledge, probably the only reason they didn’t die. Martha’s contagious smile, her persistent love even on their worst days.

By the time Toni stops to catch her breath, her dinner is cold, and the realization of who she’s talking to comes crashing down.

Tamara’s eyes are practically twinkling—she’s also barely touched her food. “I’d love to meet them all someday.” She seems so  _ genuine  _ that Toni suddenly wants to scream.

This isn’t how it should be. She shouldn’t be able to just  _ waltz  _ back into her life like this. Toni’s made her own family out of the rubble Tamara left behind, and she doesn’t get to uproot it all over again.

Toni excuses herself quickly.

iv.

The dam bursts over a glass of water.

Toni’s been trying to manage her anger better, ever since—what was it? Day six, on the island? But she isn’t perfect, not by a long shot, and everything is lined up for disaster that evening.

First of all, she wakes up with an ache in her neck. She must’ve slept on it wrong. The coffee she drinks in the morning tastes like actual ass, and she can’t finish it, so she spends most of the day still waking up. Then Shelby can’t call in the afternoon like they planned to, so Toni’s schedule has suddenly opened up. She can’t go over to Martha’s because the Blackburns have a family day every Saturday that Toni can’t bring herself to intrude on, no matter how often they tell her she wouldn’t be intruding. So she stays at home and Tamara keeps trying to talk to her.

“Do you want me to make you something for lunch?” (No.)

“That Regan girl, are you still friends with her?” (Toni doesn’t even know the answer to this.)

“Hey, could I say hello next time you chat with Shelby?” (Absolutely not, and also a terrible reminder that Toni doesn’t get to see Shelby’s face or hear her voice today.)

And then, “Do you want a glass of water?”

It’s stupid, looking back on it, because why the hell would Toni get mad about  _ that,  _ instead of anything else?

“No, I don’t want a fucking glass of water,” Toni snarls from her seat in the living room. Tamara looks shocked and it only eggs Toni on. “Like, what the hell? You’re not my waitress, for God’s sake, just leave me alone!”

“Toni,” Tamara starts, “I just want to take care of you—”

“Take care of me?” Toni’s on her feet now. “When have you  _ ever  _ wanted to take care of me? Before all the island bullshit, you had  _ no  _ problem fucking off and doing whatever you wanted. I’m seventeen years old, how many of those have you been around for? Six, seven if you’re being generous?”

Tamara just listens silently. Toni wants to shake her, get her to scream back.

“I fucking—do you know how many nights I thought it was  _ my  _ fault, somehow? That I wasn’t a good enough daughter, that my own parent couldn’t care enough about me to get help? Do you know how awful it feels to get—abandoned like that?

“And I wasn’t safe with you. I wasn’t safe with my own fucking mom. You could’ve crashed—I could’ve drowned in the bathtub—I could’ve died or gotten hurt and you weren’t ever there—Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally—You were  _ gone,  _ Mom!” Toni half-sobs, half-screams, and the weight of the word comes crashing down on her. For years, it’s never been mom, it’s just been Tamara. “You were supposed to be my  _ mom  _ and you were just _ gone.” _

Tamara doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move a muscle. When it becomes apparent she’s not going to say anything at all, Toni grabs her jacket and leaves.

(She wanders around the streets for an hour at least, and then the Blackburns find her on the way home from a movie and take her home with them. She cries in Martha and Mrs. Blackburn’s arms for what feels like an eternity. She doesn’t remember falling asleep.)

v.

There’s a voicemail from Tamara when Toni wakes up.

In full honesty, Toni’s not sure she would’ve listened to it if she’d been fully awake.

“Hey, Toni, um,” Tamara’s voice starts. Toni’s eyes snap all the way open, and instead of anger flaring in her chest, she just feels sorrow. “Mrs. Blackburn told me you were with her. I hope you’re okay. I just wanted to let you know that, um, maybe we could have an actual conversation. About all my issues. So, let me know if you’re coming back home—back to my house, I mean. And um, give Mrs. Blackburn my thanks. For taking care of you when I didn’t.”

Toni powers off her phone and closes her eyes, hoping she doesn’t start crying over a goddamn voicemail.

So a couple hours later, Toni’s sitting back in the living room of Tamara’s house, tapping her fingers on her knees as she thinks about what she wants to say for once. She doesn’t want to shout again.

“On the island,” Toni decides to start with, “Rachel found a bunch of mussels. They gave everyone who ate them food poisoning, but me and Martha got it the worst. And I mean we were on death’s door. We only had one Halophen pill, and Martha told them to give it to me.

“I got better, could keep water down, all that fun stuff. Martha still couldn’t. She was really bad, Tamara, and all I could think about was how the girls wasted that pill on me. Cause Martha’s got this whole family, you know? People who care about her. And all I had was the mother who left and convinced me I wasn’t worth anything. Now I have to deal with that forever. That shit’s ingrained, no matter what anyone else tells me. You did that to me.”

Tamara is quiet and it takes a moment for Toni to realize she’s crying. “I thought I got you out unscathed,” Tamara says in a watery voice. “I thought my going to rehab was the best option.”

“It was,” Toni stresses. “I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, really, I just can’t  _ ignore  _ it. And that’s just scratching the surface. I can’t live here while you pretend everything’s okay, ‘cause it’s not. It’s not.”

It doesn’t get better immediately—that would be impossible—but it’s a start. There might be enough there to salvage some kind of meaningful relationship, there might not. Maybe three weeks from now, Tamara will spiral again and end up back in rehab. Maybe she’s sober for good now.

Toni’s not quite sure what lies ahead for her and her mother, but for the first time in a long time (maybe ever), she’s allowed to hope.


End file.
